


In the Right Hands

by summerofspock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Hand Fetish, Hand porn, M/M, Vulcan Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is ashamed of his fetish for hands, but when he finds out that Vulcan hands are erogenous zones, he has a bit of an epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Right Hands

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i like writing hand porn  
> Enjoy!

It had been some time during his teen years that Jim Kirk had realized his sexuality was a little less defined and more amorphous than was typical for a boy born and raised in Iowa: girls, boys, aliens, whatever. If they were hot and they wanted to suck his dick then he was all for it.

It had been some time during his stint at Starfleet Academy that Jim Kirk had realized his sexual proclivities tended toward something more particular and, never one to be shy in bed, he was ready to go for it. He had been with a girl named Ginny at the time. Well, “been with” was a loose term. More like “screwing around with.” Hey, don’t get all judgy. She was the one who hadn’t wanted anything serious and when Jim had proposed his newfound wank material, she had thrown him off of her, thrown her clothes on and told him decidedly that she thought he was “disgusting” and if he wanted to lick someone’s hands then he should go get a job on Regalus where she’d heard humans could find jobs as pets. So yeah, that hadn’t gone over well. And Jim sort of wrote it off as the overreaction of a conservative 20-year-old girl. But then, when he was dating Gary and Jim really went for it with his hands—because damn that man had some fine ass hands—Gary had freaked too, jerked his hand out of Jim’s grip, away from his questing tongue, and asked “What the fuck, dude?”

And so Jim Kirk was led to believe that his fascination with hands—allright, his fetish—would be left unfulfilled. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get good sex elsewhere, and with other body parts, but, a good pair of hands really did it for him. And sometimes his partners would look at him weird when he would pull them away from sucking his dick and guide their hands instead. Like who would want a hand job over a blowjob?

Apparently, Jim Kirk and his newfound sexual awareness.

And then he got a starship. And a Vulcan first officer. A Vulcan first officer with the most beautifully, long-fingered, green-tinged hands and Jim started storing away stolen touches from those absolutely wank-worthy hands.  At first, it was pretty innocent. The aesthetic appreciation one has for beautiful art or a finely proportioned figure, but then Jim started really spending time with his First Officer, getting to know the reticent Vulcan over games of chess, and dinner debates and, well, little under a year after pushing off into the black, Jim Kirk found himself with a mighty and unrequited crush on his now best friend. And he could deal with that, console himself by brushing their hands together over dropped chess pieces, broken consoles and shared phasers. It made his gut twist whenever their fingers touched and Jim would play out the scenario in his head.

 Kneeling down, brushing his knuckles against Spock’s, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of each finger, licking chocolate sauce from each digit and then washing those perfect hands with a soft cloth and slightly scented soap.

And then Jim would feel ashamed. Ashamed for indulging his disgusting fantasies without Spock’s permission. It was a betrayal of trust, no matter how much his dick liked the idea.

It was exactly 1.5 years into the mission—Spock had told him that morning—just after their traditional Thursday night meal in Jim’s quarters when the Vulcan herded him against a wall, his soft brown eyes turning liquid bourbon and the cool, dry press of his mouth against Jim’s forced Jim to push him away. “Spock? What’s going on?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, and kept his hands where they had been, resting softly on his hips. “For the last 167 days you have stared at my mouth whenever we are alone together. The frequency of your unnecessary touches have increased by 56%. I took these facts as an indication of sexual interest in me, if I am mistaken, please inform me now as I find the desire to kiss you rather overwhelming.”

Jim was fairly certain his brain had turned to oatmeal and was currently running from his ears and pooling at his feet. “Um,” he replied intelligently.

Spock withdrew his hands and took a step back, assuming the parade rest that was so common on the bridge, but had ceased in Jim’s quarters for at least a month. “I apologize. My…eagerness seems to have alarmed you. I will not make the same mistake again.”

Miraculously Kirk’s brain snapped into motion again and he had the presence of mind to grasp at Spock’s arms. Spock’s second eyebrow raised to join the first. “No, Spock. I—I should apologize. You surprised me. Oh god, I’ve wanted you—“ Jim wasn’t able to finish his thought as Spock interrupted him firmly with his mouth.

Jim felt Spock cup him through the thin material of his Starfleet trousers as he continued to kiss him with an enthusiasm Jim had only seen Spock show for a particularly complex science experiments. Jim tried to focus on what Spock wanted to do with his hands and not what Jim wanted to do with Spock’s hands. It worked fairly well, but Jim couldn’t stop himself, when they were lying side-by-side on his bed, from threading his fingers between Spock’s, fascinated by the tan, pinkness, juxtaposed by the green of Spock’s slim digits. He squeezed lightly before letting himself drift to sleep, trying to be content with this rather wonderful turn of events.  

Two months later, Spock’s parents were on board and through the fuss of the transportation and Sarek’s illness, there wasn’t much time to consider the well of information that was the Vulcan-Human pairing. It was only after dropping off the two ambassadors when Kirk found himself kissing Spock playfully on his bed, his thigh pressed insistently between Spock’s legs as he nipped at the Vulcan’s lower lip, something that always made Spock make the most adorable growl-purr sound, that Kirk had a sudden bout of curiosity. Pulling away from Spock, who scowled at him for stopping the proceedings, Jim asked, “Your parents—they did this thing with their fingers—what was that?”

The scowl melted away to be replaced by a distinctly chartreuse blush as Spock shifted his gaze away from Jim’s. “It is a Vulcan Kiss.”

“Wait, Vulcan’s kiss with their hands? Why?” Jim asked, very aroused by the idea, but certain it probably had something to do with hygiene or something equally…logical.

Spock became even shiftier beneath him. Gripping Kirk’s forearms, Spock rolled him off of him and sat up, his blush deepening to emerald as he looked at the wall.

Jim sat up and crawled to embrace Spock from behind and press a kiss to his neck. “What is it?”

“As you know,” Spock began, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and repeated himself, his voice lower than usual. “As you know, Vulcans are touch telepaths.”

“Yes…” Jim said, pressing his chin into Spock’s shoulder and hoping his lover would continue his explanation.

“Wehaveverysensitivefingers,” Spock said, all in a rush.

Jim sat back on his heels and processed that for a moment. Realization dawned. “Wait, are you saying Vulcans kiss with their hands because _their fingers are erogenous zones_?”

Spock finally turned to look at him, his eyes stormy. “Jim, I would have you know that I have never touched you in any way that would be considered inappropriate and if—before our relationship—some of the ways you touched me could be viewed as forms of affection then I am not—“

“Vulcan fingers are erogenous zones,” Jim repeated, not really listening to Spock’s haphazard attempt at a wholly unnecessary apology.

“I thought I made that clear,” Spock said, his tone turning icy.

Smiling widely, Jim hopped off of the bed to stand over Spock. He reached down and grabbed his hands, swiping his thumb over Spock’s knuckles. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

Spock was too busy staring at their hands as Jim had lifted them directly in front of his face. Jim took that as permission to continue. He stilled his fingers and willed his heart to slow down from its rabbit-race in his chest. “I’ve always been, well, fascinated by hands.”

Spock raised his eyebrows at him.

“That is to say… I mean you could say, Ihaveafetish.” Apparently it was Jim’s turn to speak incoherently. He cleared his throat.

Spock’s eyebrows climbed impossibly higher.

Looking at the floor, but not releasing his lover’s hands, Jim asked, “Spock, would it be all right if I…if I made love to your hands?”

The sharp intake of breath made Jim’s stomach soar. Immediately, he dropped to his knees and looked up at Spock’s face.  When he saw the way Spock looked at him, Jim knew that this particular lover wouldn’t run out no matter what he wanted to do to his hands. Jim’s nerves flooded out of him and he grinned lasciviously. Placing Spock’s hands on his knees, Jim stroked his fingertips down each knuckle, enjoying the gentle tickle of the sparse, dark hair dusting Spock’s knuckles. He lifted up the right hand and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of the palm, licking from the heel of Spock’s hand to the tip of Spock’s middle finger. Jim groaned at the sweet, Spock taste and the firm feel of a finger in his mouth.  Spock’s left hand came up and threaded through his hair, letting him know exactly how much Spock was enjoying the turn of events.

Jim kissed the tip of Spock’s pointer finger before tracing the moon of his cuticle with the tip of his tongue. Nipping at the tender webbing between Spock’s thumb and forefinger, Jim kneaded the heel of the  hand with his own before kissing away the fetching green marks he had left behind in his enthusiasm.

Spock’s breathing was coming in sharp pants and he emitted a low keening sound when Jim took the first two fingers of his hand into his mouth and sucked ruthlessly. Spock’s fingers tightened against his scalp and Jim’s eyes rolled back into his head as his dick fought against the constraints of his pants. He was so turned on that it was almost painful and he moaned against the press of Spock’s fingers in his mouth. And then Spock groaned in the back of his throat, the sound he always made as he came and Jim’s arousal increased to such a degree that he whited out.

When he came back to himself, he found his head cradled in Spock’s lap with his legs stretched out on his bed. “Did you pick me up and put me here?” Jim asked, squirming a little and realizing he had come in his pants.

“It seemed undignified to leave you unconscious on the floor.”

“Thanks,” Jim replied, feeling rather reluctant to move despite the mess in his pants. “Oh my god, we’re going to have to do that again.”

“It was not unpleasant.”

Jim smiled as Spock continued to run his fingers through his hair. They sat like that for a few moments in silence before Jim asked innocently, “So, theoretically, what would it be like for you to finger a guy?”

The spluttering sounds above him were a nice response.

 

 


End file.
